Divine Balance
by LimeKiwiEye
Summary: After an exhausting day, a young knight is left alone with her thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

The woman's acid disgust finds her seeking solace in the guest bedchambers of the villa where she stays. Her churning thoughts are fueled by the day's events ; and they nauseate the stoic beauty. She sips heavy cognac to soothe; but the dissonant chords of today seem to carry the cargo of her entire lifetime. She gazes around the dark-walled room, silent and hot tears momentarily blur her vision.

A routine mission gone bad, lives lost in both Hellsing and Iscariot. The Badrick incident, Cheddar, paled by comparison. It had been a slap in the face, a lingering mark left by a leathered glove, the convention forcing her to shack up in the home of a bitter rival. For the sake of the Queen, humanity, the Hellsing name; Arthur Hellsing's heir aversely agreed to confinement in an Italian villa with Catholic director Enrico Maxwell, until both outfits found a way to cast aside differences.

As if days spent in meetings with Enrico weren't enough salt in her wounds; she was alone. It was decided both sides would send their leaders without subordinates for protection. Integra knew if she needed help, Alucard would be but a whisper away; she must assume the same of Father Anderson. The subordinates, Father Anderson and Alucard, had a rivalry supporting Sir Hellsing's and Enrico's; both belonged to similar organizations with differing ideologies. Only Alucard and Anderson's enmity stemmed from much deeper longings, often times the enemies, blinded by their own end-games, lapsed from their dictated path. More often than not she was left cleaning up Alucard's mess, usually the result of Enrico sending out the Paladin. She did miss commiserating with someone who worshipfully understood her need to incapacitate the prig Maxwell. But with Hellsing on such rocky terrain, it would be unwise to defy orders from higher up.

Today's meetings had not gone well. Insults flew, as expected, but one struck a nerve with the very young knight. She was nothing if not dutiful, proud, and a natural leader. It was common for new introductions to question her clout; however opinions changed within moments of conversation. Her youth was a flaw, her beauty a double-edged sword, and her womanhood unequivocally undermined any authority. Integra was used to such treatment, and had no issue setting such gentlemen in proper perspective. Most men, shocked, afterward saw Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing as an equal, perhaps superior. Despite the fact her lack of makeup and conservative suits did little to disguise her femininity, most men realized she was not someone to be trifled with.

Maxwell understood that all too well, and used it to his advantage. He predictably attacked her age, lack of experience in running such an valued organization. She owed him nothing, she tolerated the insults, temper in check. She was almost amused when he called her a weak child, one who overuses Hellsing's crutch, Alucard. But what followed, burned into her brain. His voice thick with implication growled out, "She is the vampire's bride, a whore, sharing Alucard's bed, puppeted by the vampire as he reaches to undermine the entire organization!"

He damnably continued, claiming the vampire shared the same bed with her inept and alcoholic father. Predictably, she lost control, the meeting temporarily adjourned, she stormed out leaving one smug Maxwell and a host of curious eyes.

What did they think of her now? Her actions only served to reinforce Enrico's words, he knew exactly which buttons to push. Was she so obvious? A puppet? She isn't sure what stung more, the sullying of her purity left to others' imaginations, or the thought of Alucard with her father. She wouldn't put it past her vampire. But her father?

With no end in sight, she alternates dressing for bed, and gulping her nightly drink. A normally composed young woman allows angry tears to flow, the candle light dips into the streams, tickling them, kissing the beads on her lashes. She stands at the floor-length window gazing into a December night, a momentary pinprick of starlight punctures her thoughts, and pulls her into a memory. Arthur's shadow winks into view, he offers her a kind smile, a comforting hand. He is still a pillar of strength in these thoughts, not undermined by Enrico's cheap words.

She gulps the last of her cognac down, emerges from her momentary haze to note the haphazard twinkle of stars scattering night's blanket. Her eyes scarcely recognize the gentle pulse of the tiny beacons. She smiles slimly at an escaped memory of her father, telling her on a night such as this, that her soul shone like a brilliant white star.

Integra sets down her empty glass, the chink of lead crystal on the marble bedside table stirs her to appreciation. The glass sends shadows and beams, shooting lines of light, from the candlelit room. Each beam reaches out to Integra, the walls, the windows, her current world encapsulated in crystal.

She realizes it is enough. She is enough. Her thoughts crystallize in front of her. Hundreds of small fragile glass prisons materialize in front of her, thin membranes straining to contain prisoners. She gently disengages eyes from the display to focus on one purple globe pulsing with anger, a struggling Enrico Maxwell. She snarls, backs away, imagines him encased in ice, blocking all possible return.

She turns attention to a spectre in a nearby bubble, her father's glow. She gently pushes him away for the evening. She is not ready to face his smile. A third apparition floats darker than the others, she notes glinting stones in an underwater cavern. She is memorized by the otherworldliness of the scene. A longer look imparts that the stones' glow heats, becoming red coals. A set of garnet eyes is revealed, they will her to notice their bloodied depths. Her pet monster often unset her balance, she will not go there tonight.

She shields herself. She elects to push all the bubbles out and away, they depart on bitter December winds, carried up on chants ascending from the glow of the villa below. She watches, eyes open wide, hundreds of bubbles float away, colors pooling into the dim distance.

Silence, candle glow, stars.

This is her pristine moment. She is truly alone. Away from prying vampire eyes, irreconcilable knowledge of her father, struggling with her memory of his strength, up and away from insults and slights of Enrico. She is in his land, and the thought makes her smile as she is, at this shining moment, untouchable. Perhaps this is her strength that others see.

She has survived the day mostly unscathed but exhausted. The cool winds blow against the window's pane as she slides into the canopied bed. She slinks into the white satin sheets, and the inky comforter of down. She warms her lithe body and delights in the texture of the cream negligee as it slithers over her skin. The woman closes her eyes and smiles small. Overhead the stars continue to twinkle.

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Disclaimer: Hellsing is owned by others.


	2. Chapter 2

She awakes partway through the night, sky still black, moon a memory. She is aroused at the feel of her thighs rubbing together in her gown. She pushes down the comforter and sheets and allows the satin to ride up her legs. She permits herself this small liberty, in the face of her self-discovered freedom. She is aware this fragile moment could be easily shattered by her restless mind and vindictive memories coming to collect and cage her. She proceeds cautiously.

Her nostrils flare as she inhales the clean scent of her sheets, the woodsy smell of incense from floors below comforts her, mellowing the moment. Her restless hand shoots down to the juncture of her thighs, seeking the pulse that slightly and incessantly beats. She exhales sharply as cold fingers press against the warm bud of her flesh. She strokes lightly and rhythmically, hips rising, legs spreading wider.

She doesn't enter herself, unconsciously defending her virgin title. Her body softens, heat gathers in fingertips. Reveling in the moment, cradled by her own mental-safety net, she warms to one option, and more firmly decides with each stroke to recall his memory. Her body shivers reflexively as his bubble shimmers and presents itself from the black night sky. She gazes into the small prison askance, her belly trembling with desire.

Heavy-lidded eyes pry themselves open, yanked miles by sheer force with a magnet's intensity. They awake to roam over her supple tawny skin, the blonde nest of curls invaded by swirling and stroking fingers. He blinks, momentarily scalded by her white heat. He is shocked into inaction, the scene before him, he can only watch, yet he burns for her; any amusement at the steel knight reduced to base human need is stripped away by his raw craving.

As if recognizing the cord connecting her thoughts to the intensity of his desire, her body responds, arching up to the flat plane of her palm, pressure building. Her free hand reaches up to caress a small high breast. The silk fluidly melts over her skin, exposing a dusky nipple. She moans.

His incisors elongate. He needs to fill his mouth with the ripe fruit arranged and presented so delectably before him. He can practically taste her spiced flesh. A chord of pleasure rips from his teeth, tears down the length of his torso, connects to his loins, pulling, fueling his need. His tongue instinctively emerges to lick his lips, he pictures using the organ to penetrate her body's depths, to lap at her honey as it spills onto his greedy tongue, her wet thighs, bedclothes.

She is completely exposed, vulnerable, her hand beats a rhythm matching the pulsing of the stars. A liquid fire spreads from her exposed aching flesh to pool in her belly. She pumps against herself faster, pulling thoughts of him closer, allowing herself to be saturated by this one welcome invasion.

He no longer restrains himself at the sight of the angel before him, calling out his name. He is everywhere at once. His throbbing need echoes hers, surpassing her lust. He frees his shadows to the banquet of her skin. Caressing, smoothing, pooling. He flows into her, he is water saturating her pores, come to quench the burning.

She floats, waves of sheer pleasure flow through her, they heat her entire being. Her head swims, she gasps for oxygen. Her eyes glaze over at the thought of his tongue, it bestows one teasing flick to her most sensitive place. She feels his tongue, flicking and wet, it pushes her to the brink of oblivion. Breath teases her fevered liquid bliss. His mouth, lips, enclose her clitoris, a single suck and she is lost. She drowns in him, calls out his name, body convulses, shakes, awash in feelings, thoughts, sensations.

He is carried away in the flood of her peak, led by the rhythms of her naked and beautiful hands. He is awash in her body, and climaxes as she tremblingly calls out to him, he silently spills onto her already soaked flesh.

She grows vaguely aware of the slickness between her thighs, her eyes distantly come to focus on twin stars in the velvet of night. Her body relaxes into the sheets and she pulls her gaze to the dark walls of the bedroom and her glorious afterglow. She feels a momentary shock, not glittering stars, but twin eyes gaze upon her form. She recoils covering herself. She thought she was safe! Had she misjudged horribly? Heart pounding, she blinks to realize the room's emptiness. It was only her memories to company her. She feels a momentary shame chased by regret.

He tastes her palpable embarrassment, he shares none of it. Her servant melts into the shadows of the room. He gazes at her glowing form, she has only fed his desire. None of earth's armies could keep him away from his master like this again. He had but one enemy in the battle for his Integra. The sole force barring much needed physical intimacy-the integrity of her life's convictions. Now he had witnessed it, she possessed a spine of steel, but she was not carved from stone. Her monster's lips curve into a beatific smile as he plans for nights to come.

The woman covers herself, wipes her thighs clean. She dimly admires the crystal's web on the walls, relaxing back into the slippery sheets. Her disgust is gone, she is only human after all. She vows not to fall prey to such carnal sins closer to her servant. Heaven knows had he been there!

She grimaces reflexively, soft hair fanning out on the pillows behind. As for the current situation, she'd put her reputation right tomorrow, regain precious boundaries for her organization. Her grimace falters into a smile, something is changed. Her eyes seek the safety of the night sky, they soften. She is looser, freer. She acknowledges she can make her own decisions, set her own limits, not based off of pressure, her pesky vampire, or her own guilty failures. She does not live in anyone's shadow. This young woman is now fully in control of herself, and her life, however long it may be. She thinks of her servant and smiles.

When she returns home they will talk.

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Disclaimer: Hellsing is owned by others.


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